


Are You Living In The Real World?

by ashangel101010



Series: Like Julia and Spike [2]
Category: Chaotic (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Nivenna can sing, One-Shot, cowboy bebop references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6946936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashangel101010/pseuds/ashangel101010
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to the "Reprise of the Past" story. Aivenna has convinced Nivenna to perform at an OverWorld bar. Accato happens to be at the bar and falls head over heels for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Living In The Real World?

Are You Living In The Real World?

*

Suggested Theme:

Main Theme- Gotta Knock a Little Harder by Seatbelts

*

            Accato is at _The Real Folk Blues_ bar, waiting for his pay. His pay arrives in the form of a glass of Blue Juniper, the most expensive drink in the bar. It’s sweet and smoky like festival meat without gristle. The bar is a fairly new establishment that was erected during this time of short-lived peace. The main focus of this bar is, of course, alcohol and music. The latter of which is actually fairly new since music, decent music, is evolving due to interactions with the humans. The humans, with their Scanners, have their music at their fingertips and gladly play them for curious Creatures that are willing to be scanned. Some humans can even sing like there’s this human with orange hair and gold streaks that likes to sing. Rumor has it, he’s even sung for Chaor.

He takes a swig from his drink and looks around the bar. The white stones look as gray as smoke from clean fires. The bar and tables are made of the same maroon-colored woods and look almost crimson in the dark. The lights are purposely dimmed, not to save on candles, but because it just breeds an atmosphere in the bar. An atmosphere of transience and mystique like High Muge Najarin’s castle at night.

Accato is a full-time musician during this time of peace; he goes to bars, inns, and parties and plays his music. Sometimes, he gets paid in gold, but most of the time he plays for food and drinks. He’s absolutely fine with being paid with a good meal and a hot drink, as long as he’s in the OverWorld. In the UnderWorld, he fights for his cash if a tavern keeper feels like being a swindling miser with him. He has yet to play in Mipedian or Danian territories because the trek to either one of those two Tribes is too time-consuming.

He has just finished his set and is settling down with his drink. He sees the stage being set up for another band to play; he hopes the band has talent. His ears feel like they’re bleeding whenever he hears amateurs trying to play on a custom Mugician Lyre. If this band is horrible, he swears he’ll leave the bar rather than being a good OverWorlder and cheering on his fellow tone-deaf tribemate.

He sees humans with strange-looking instruments setting up their equipment and adjusting their mics, but his attention wavers to the only Creature on stage. She has on a red dress with very thin straps; there’s a slit on her left leg that reveals a netted stocking on her leg with red high-heel shoes. Her skin shines like the moon and her hair is a bright red that puts blood on the battlefield to shame. She has pointed ears and orange lips like someone familiar. She is smoothing out some tiny creases on her black evening gloves.

He is not smiling at her. At all. She’s beautiful that’s as true as Maxxor’s devotion to his Tribe. However, he is inwardly cringing. He has seen many a beautiful Creature step on stage and sing so hideously that his attraction for them dies on the spot. He’s preparing for this inevitable disappointment like most wise Creatures are preparing for the end of the peace.

_“Happiness is just a word to me_

_And it might have meant a thing or two_

_If I'd had known the difference._

_Emptiness, a lonely parody,_

_And my life, another smokin' gun,_

_A sign of my indifference.”_

He nearly loses his grip on his drink. He expected her to sing like the tone-deaf amateurs he’s been enduring lately. Instead, she sings like……like echoing, melting gold.

_“Always keepin' safe inside_

_Where no one ever had a chance_

_To penetrate or break in._

_Let me tell you, some have tried,_

_But I would slam the door so tight_

_That they could never get in.”_

And the background music is divine, nothing short of a miracle from the Cothica. The humans and their instruments are so finely tuned that Accato feels like an amateur musician right now. Even the background singers are pure perfection.

_“Kept my cool under a lock and key_

_And I never shed a tear,_

_Another sign of my condition._

_Fear of love or bitter vanity_

_That kept me on the run,_

_The main events at my confession.”_

She, the songstress, is like a deep, rippling ache. Her background singers are like echoes of that ache. And the band is just salting the ache like torture.

_“I kept a chain upon my door_

_That would shake the shame of Cain_

_Into a blind submission._

_The burning ghost without a name_

_Was still calling all the same,_

_But I just wouldn't listen.”_

The songstress and her choir come together like true peace. But he can hear a build to their rhythm. Like a climax, but he can’t tell if it’ll be explosive or mellow.

_“The longer I'd call,_

_The further I'd crawl._

_The further I'd crawl,_

_The harder I'd fall._

_I was crawlin' into the fire.”_

The songstress moves like a dancer. She shakes and trembles like unstable glass. Her long hair twirls around her body like serpents.

_“The more that I saw,_

_The further I'd fall._

_The further I'd fall,_

_The lower I'd crawl._

_I kept fallin' into the fire,_

_Into the fire,_

_Into the fire.”_

There’s an electric lyre, or at least that’s what it looks like to Accato, solo after that verse. Is it a lull? No, it’s the opposite; it’s a bustle.

_“Suddenly it occurred to me,_

_The reason for the run and hide_

_Had totaled my existence._

_Everything left on the other side_

_Could never be much worse than this,_

_But I could go the distance.”_

She’s charged like lightning before its strike. She’s swaying and jiving. She’s the embodiment of energy and ecstasy.

_“I face the door and all my shame,_

_Tearin' off each piece of chain_

_Until they all were broken._

_But no matter how I tried,_

_The other side was locked up so tight._

_The door it wouldn't open.”_

He wants to wonder how she’s able to string all of these lyrics. He wants to ask how she got these humans to play for her. He wants to kiss her.

_“Give it all that I got_

_And started to knock,_

_Shouted for someone_

_To open the lock._

_I just gotta get through the door.”_

He’s not shy, not even when he was a child. He’s bold like the purple streaks in his hair and the earrings decorating his pointed ears. He’s brave enough to take on Dyrtax for copying his guitar.

_“And the more that I knocked,_

_The hotter I got._

_The hotter I got,_

_The harder I'd knock._

_I just gotta break through the door.”_

But will she, the songstress, slake his thirst? No, he’s greedy for music. He’s greedier than any UnderWorlder.

_“Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Break through the door.”_

He can hear her slow down because she’s just a Creature. She couldn’t continue her song forever. Not at her breakneck pace.

_“Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Break through the door.”_

He takes a sip from his neglected drink. He closes his eyes, lets the slowly dying song float around him. He’s trying to sear the song, the music, and the songstress into his memories like tattoos on skin.

_“Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Break through the door.”_

The songstress and choir begin to split, very slightly. Like cracks in the Ancestor Wall. But they aren’t crumbling; they’re just drifting apart.

_“Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Break through the door.”_

He should open his eyes. He should watch her poison-green eyes dilate like the rawest display of attraction. He should open eyes, but he doesn’t.

_“Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Break through the door.”_

Is she real? He can hear her singing fading but stirring like a dying heartbeat. If he opens his eyes, will she disappear?

_“Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Gotta knock a little harder,_

_Break down the door.”_

Finally, quietly, her song ends. His eyes snap open and looks at the stage. She is gone. The humans are packing up their instruments. The audience finishes their clapping. And she is gone.

He learns two things about himself. And first, he’s a total, utter fool. And second, he’s in love with her.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Comments- I would highly recommend looking up the song and the anime, Cowboy Bebop, when you get the chance. And then watch the movie, Cowboy Bebop: The Movie. I got the song from the movie, while I also made some allusions to the show’s episodes. Like Nivenna’s outfit is the same one that Faye wears at the opera in “Ballad of the Fallen Angels” episode with some slight alterations, while the bar is named after the final two episodes of the show. Also, the title is in reference to the last line shown in the movie. If you read carefully enough, you’ll also notice that I referenced Carrying A Celtic Cross story. 
> 
> I always wanted to write something for Accato ever since I got a look at him. He’s basically a teenage punk version of Maxxor and is described as being fun and rebellious. Although, in this story, he’s sort of mellow like Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop. Originally, I shipped him with Skithia because my version of Skithia just loves near-perfect music, and she would’ve loved his music even if it is a bit too sugary for her tastes. But then, one day at random, I thought about him and Nivenna and then said out loud, “FUCK! I ship them now!” But then again, it just depends on the story because I like him with Skithia and Nivenna. Before, I used to toy with the idea that Cyrenox had a crush on Nivenna, but now I want to toy with his feelings like a sadist. Luckily, I still like Illazar with Aivenna. Although, those two…….yeah, I need to write something for them one day. Maybe after I do a couple more stories involving Nivenna, Accato, and Cyrenox.


End file.
